


fireplace

by faerietell



Series: the way you look at me [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fairytale Vibes, Zutara, Zutara Month, Zutara Month 2016, a little sad, actually not sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9171190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerietell/pseuds/faerietell
Summary: There is a boy in the fireplace of the Fire Nation palace.Katara meets him.





	

This is how the story goes.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, all the elements bowed to fire. Earth was razed to the ground. Air burnt the fire more fiercely. Water, it’s opposite, could not quell it. Yet the prince of fire knew it was wrong. He knew it was cruel. He knew there must be balance.

So he fought his father, the lord of fire, and he won. But family betrayed family, blood betrayed blood, and there was a terrible price to pay.

His sister, the mad princess, became the new lord.

And he, legend says, lives on only within the fires of the palace, within the fireplace.

 

 

It is the second day of celebrations, and Katara cannot bear it any longer. A decade since the peace, ten years of prosperity between the nations, but it has come too late for her. Her mother will never live to see it. So no, she can’t stand to be here, in the gilded palace that killed her mother, in the nest of fire and traitors. Hakoda is their leader and must let it go. Sokka laughs and does it anyway.

Katara had wanted to be diplomat, had been vying for the position. Now she was here though, she didn’t think she could do it. She couldn’t meet the Mad Lord’s golden eyes and pretend at a smile. It’s too hot. Even amid summer, the palace fireplaces are boiling. She stares at the fire burning in her room, and in frustration, she sends a wave of water from the vase at it.

The vase shatters.

The fire doesn’t burn out.

She drops to her knees, glaring at the red-gold embers. “I hate this place,” she spits at the fire.

The fire speaks back, a deep rasp emanating from the grates. “I did too. But the palace isn’t the nation.”

“What?” She gapes. She is going mad. “You can’t be – fire doesn’t _talk_.” She doubts herself now. “Does it?”

“Of course not,” says the fireplace with scorn.

Katara crosses arm. “Well, how am I supposed to know if Fire Nation fire isn’t somehow different? You’re _talking_ , after all.”

“I noticed that.”

“Why?” She persists. Her irritation at the voice, her anger at this nation – it all melds into curiosity, a childish wonder for everything she cannot understand.

“I don’t see why I should tell you,” says the fireplace. “You hate this nation, after all.”

The anger floods back. “You’re right. I do. Everything is too hot. Everything is so _wealthy_ and _cold_. Yet they fought for more.” The palace is gleaming with treasures, and everything is thick in wealth. They’re cold too. They aren’t cold like the way home is, a kind of cold that has her closer to everyone. It’s a distant kind of cold, the way she never lets her hands too close to the bonfire.

The fireplace doesn’t answer, and Katara throws herself into the too red sheets of the bed. Mad. This is all mad.

 

 

The prince had made a mistake. Instead of fighting with his own wits and skills, he had sought help from the world of the spirits. Agni is merciful yet vengeful. He cursed the prince, but he also gave him a blessing.

For every curse can be broken.

 

 

The next day, Katara visits the capital city. She hasn’t until now. The palace is more than big enough for her, and really, beside the meals, she’s barely left her room. Throughout everything, she has rather liked her room. It’s desolate and lonely, an aching kind of silence about it. She needs that here. The paladin takes her to one of the attractions of the city, but she’s done with pretty buildings. She’s seen them all.

So she slips the guards, delving deeper into the city.

There is a taste of spice in the air, and vendors clutter every street corner. “Here, lady,” one shouts at her. “Food so good you’ll never forget it.” He’s overly skinny, and he’s missing a tooth. She has a few gold coins that her father had given her, and so she pays the vendor for one.

“So?” He asks her when she takes a bite.

Katara doesn’t know what it is. It’s fried and sweet, hot in her mouth but spicy when she swallows it. The outside is doughy, but the inside is padded with rice and spices. She thinks she may love it. “It’s wonderful,” she beams at the vendor and places another gold coin on the stand. “Another, please.” This one, she wraps and saves for her brother.

Life sprawls through the city. There is too much red, but everyone is proud of it. The babies are wadded in softer shades of the color. Teenagers wear it a bright scarlet. Katara too is tempted by a street market selling pretty dresses in red silk, but she doubts she can afford it. Besides, another scent steals her away. A tea shop sits across the street, and she can’t resist. _The Jasmine Dragon_. Katara pushes the door open and takes a seat at one of the tables.

A round man with gray hair and a warm smile asks her for her order. “Whatever is the special,” she smiles.

He looks at her again. “Ah, a waterbender,” he realizes. “I had forgotten. It’s a beautiful time, is it not? The fire lilies soon to blood, and peace over adversity.”

“It’s more like everyone has forgotten everything that has happened,” she realizes that her hand is clenching the tablecloth too tightly, knuckles white, and she lets go.

“No one has forgotten, young waterbender,” says the old man. “But we must all let go. Or we shall be left clinging to nothing and desolate. And, worst of all, without tea.”

Katara laughs. “I can imagine no fate more tragic.”

“Ah,” his smile widens. “So we see eye to eye.”

She thinks they very well might. “How did you know?” She asks. “That I was a waterbender? I could have been anyone from the tribes.”

“They look at peace everywhere, waterbenders. But the good ones, the really good ones, they hold themselves like they are ready for war.”

“I’m not really good,” Katara admits. “Not many will teach me.” In truth, no one would. It is against tradition, and after years of war, tradition is all the tribes have left. What she has learned is true experimentation and a few months with the benders in the swamp. Their technique and teachings were invaluable, but they weren’t enough.

“I have a feeling you will soon learn.”

 

 

They say the Mad Lord asks her brother every day how the curse could be broken, but he never answers. No one believes her anymore. Speaking to the fire is yet another sign of the princess’ madness.

 

 

 

When she gets back to the palace, she goes straight to the fireplace. “You’re right,” she admits to it, not even caring that she sounds totally mad. “The city is different. The city is beautiful.”

“Did you like it?” The fireplace sounds almost shy.

“I loved it,” says Katara. “The food is really, really great. My brother is missing out. Oh, and the people are all so nice. And I went to this great tea shop. And I saw a water temple. It was nice, kind of like home.”

The fireplace is brusque again. “It was right there now that you cared to look.”

She rolls her eyes. “You really can’t just be nice, can you?”

“I’m fire,” it says. “It’s against my nature.”

“That’s not true,” she argues. She doesn’t even know why she’s fighting it on this when she has agreed for so long. “Fire can warm. We need fire, in the water tribes, to survive.

“Maybe,” he says. “But you can’t forget that fire burns. Fire scars.”

“I won’t,” says Katara. She can’t. “Are you lonely?” The curiosity is back. The novelty of talking to a fireplace has yet to wear off.

“No,” she can almost hear it rolling its eyes. It. He.

“Are you… a male fireplace?”

The fire visibly sputters. “Of all things you could ask, you choose that?”

“I wasn’t sure of how to think of you,” Katara defends herself, reddening. “It’s a little weird, for your information.”

“Yes, I am,” says the fireplace after a moment. “I can’t see you,” he admits a moment later. “I can only hear your voice. Hear you moving around. That sort of thing.”

“Oh,” says Katara, sitting closer to the furnace. She is careful not to draw too near. The fire warms her, but it could also burn her. She hasn’t forgotten. “Well, in case you were wondering, I have blue eyes. And my skin is brown. My hair’s dark and long. I usually wear it in a braid now, but when I was young, it was hair loopies.”

The fire crackles.

“What?”

There’s a strange sort of laugh. “I was just imagining the loopies.”

“Shut up,” she narrows her eyes at it. “What about you? Why do you talk?”

The fire doesn’t answer for so long she doesn’t think he will at all. Then he does. “This is my room.” It doesn’t really answer the question except it does. She looks around like this is the first time she has seen it. It is a boy’s room. She can see it now. It’s overly masculine, but there is a shy touch to it too, the turtleduck painting and the vases.

“How?” She asks, but she can only imagine the worst case scenarios.

“My turn,” says the fireplace. “Blue eyes. They aren’t common here.”

“It’s not,” says Katara. “I’m from the Southern Water Tribe.”

The fire burns brighter. “A peace conference?”

“More a celebration,” she answers. She glances around the room, and for the first time, she feels sad about what she says next. “This is my last night here.”

“You’re not a waterbender, are you?” The fire asks, even brighter now. “There are none in the South.”

“None but me,” says Katara. “I’m the last one. Still.” It has been ten years, and while they have rebuilt a lot, there have been none born into the tribe.

The fire dims now, almost entirely. “You should find the pond before you leave. It’s in the royal gardens. I doubt you have access, but there is another way in through the second floor, behind the tapestry.”

“Why?”

But he doesn’t answer, and he says no more for the night.

 

 

The truth is this: the prince of fire may only be freed if a waterbender of the South falls in love with him. The truth is this: and if she does, she will take his place.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is a little weird?? but i kind of like it aye


End file.
